


Childish Things

by PerfidiousFate



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 08:26:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11032401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerfidiousFate/pseuds/PerfidiousFate
Summary: Gaara and Shikadai play a game.





	Childish Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inkstone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstone/gifts).



"I don't see the point of this."

Shikadai's mother always told him that rolling his eyes was rude – often accompanied by a pointed glare at his father – but Shikadai couldn't help himself. It was in his genetics. He rolled his eyes, and Uncle Gaara's frown deepened.

They were sitting at home. Uncle Gaara and Uncle Kankurou's home, and his mother's childhood home, to be precise. Shikadai hadn't really wanted to visit Sunagakure, but his parents had somehow both gotten very complex and involved missions, and his teammates had become embroiled in their own family business. Inojin…Shikadai wasn't sure what happened to him, but it was something to do with his father and an art exhibition and ex-ROOT members. Long story short: he was unavailable. Chocho, on the other hand, had gotten sent to Iwagakure along with her mother.

And this sounded like the beginning of a perfect, worry-free week where Shikadai could nap and do nothing else, except his mother had talked to Chocho's mother and suddenly everyone was bursting with the great idea of sending Shikadai to Sunagakure to hang out with his Uncle Gaara. (His father had laughed at him. He'd laughed at him in that obnoxious way where he looked like he was yawning, but he was totally laughing at Shikadai. Shikadai _could tell_. Thankfully, he'd inherited his mother's propensity for vengefulness. This slight would not go unpunished, mark his words.)

It wasn't like he didn't like Uncle Gaara. Shikadai had heard some shit about how his mother had grown up, and how his friends' parents grew up, and he was smart enough to be grateful for his family and for this era of peace in which he now lived. Uncle Gaara was caring, conscientious, and respectful of him. Shikadai liked him; he'd trust him with his life.

But in moments like this, Shikadai questioned every single droplet of blood he shared with his uncle.

They were sitting in the living room, in front of the TV. Shikadai had set up his favorite racing game – he was terrible at it, and Chocho and Inojin mocked him ruthlessly every time he played with them, so he was determined to spend his time in sandy, hot Sunagakure hiding inside with air conditioning and practicing until his fingers bled. Or napping. Whichever he felt like, really.

But Uncle Gaara, hard-working, serious Uncle Gaara, had wandered up to him. He'd stood there, arms crossed, lips pursed, staring unblinkingly at the screen as Shikadai lost control and spun out.

"What are you doing?"

"Playing Yellow Flash Kart IX," Shikadai had said, not paying attention to the conversation at all.

Gaara watched him for another minute, as Shikadai came in seventh place. Then, he uttered the words that had doomed the rest of the afternoon: "May I try?"

Shikadai couldn't say no. He couldn't. His grandmother had died having Gaara, and then Gaara spent his childhood killing people. He wasn't Inojin – he wasn't heartless. He'd play a stupid video game with his uncle. Indulge him.

Cut to this moment.

Gaara was gripping the controller as if it were about to explode. He was glaring at the screen, where it proudly declared that he placed last. "I don't get the point of this."

"It's meant to be fun, Uncle." Shikadai couldn't help himself. He rolled his eyes. Then, he reached forward and grabbed another handful of potato chips. Sure, his mother told him he'd get fat if he kept eating as much as he did, but he had Nara genes. His dad looked like a scarecrow no matter how many barbeques he went to with Uncle Chouji and Aunt Ino.

"This isn't fun. It's impossible."

"Uncle, are you pouting?" Shikadai was incredulous. The Kazekage, while not outright pouting, was glaring at the screen and had a distinct moue on his face.

"I don't pout."

"Tell that to mom and uncle Kankuro." Phones with a camera were the best invention ever. Shikadai managed to snap three shots before Gaara glanced over at him and, with nary a flick of his eyebrow, sent chakra-enchanted sand up to block the shot. "…how troublesome."

Gaara sighed.

Shikadai was smart. He was really smart, actually – a veritable genius, and, thanks to his mom (according to her), he actually had the gusto to use it unlike _certain lazy assholes_. Uncle Gaara wasn't having fun with the game; that was obvious. He maybe never had fun with games, not since he was a kid and a monster both at once. The only reason he was trying was because Shikadai liked the game. He wanted to bond with him. Shikadai had been pretty obvious about his displeasure with visiting Sunagakure, and while he didn't take it out on his uncle, he could see how, to a man who kind of sucked at the whole social bonds thing, he might take it that way.

Stupid guilt. Stupid conscience. Stupid family.

Shikadai sighed again. "Okay, uncle. Here. Let me show you how to do it." He leaned against his uncle's side, and held his hands over his Uncle's. Adjusted his grip. "There. That'll be easier for you to hold it. Let's play another game instead, something easier, to help you get adjusted to the controls. That's the tricky part, after all…Maybe Chakracraft? And we can find another controller too. We can splitscreen, and I can help you out."

And…okay. Yeah. Okay. His uncle was smiling. That was…it was good. Shikadai had never seen his Uncle smile at someone who wasn't one of his siblings. Something warm and fierce bubbled up inside of him – no wonder his mother and Uncle Kankurou were so protective of him. Somehow, seeing Uncle Gaara smile – even at something as stupid as Yellow Flash Kart IX – it felt right. Dead grandmothers and demons aside.

Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad trip after all. This was kind of fun.

Or so he thought, until Uncle Gaara, who turned out to be a quick study, beat him at FlashKart thirty seven times in a row and bragged about it to his dad on the phone later, during the obligatory just-checking-nothing's-on-fire phone call. Inojin and Chocho were like bloodhounds for Shikadai's misery: they never stopped laughing at him, ever.

Shikadai was never playing a video game with his uncle ever again. _Ever_. (Except that was a lie.)


End file.
